


Brawl

by shit-escalates (Schm0use)



Category: Red Rising Trilogy - Pierce Brown
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3823198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schm0use/pseuds/shit-escalates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sevro's birthday, but Virginia will fight if she wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brawl

Mustang opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again. She literally has no words. There is nothing to say about how she ended up in this situation, or why she ended up in this situation. Possibly not even about _when_ she ended up in this situation, because all she remembers is waking up with a splitting headache, a dry mouth, and in a holding cell.

They are somewhere on Earth. At least, she thinks they’re somewhere on Earth.

And she glances sideways at her companion, because the other thing she’d woken up to discover was that she was sharing a holding cell with _Ragnar_ of all people.

He hasn’t spoken a word since she awoke, but he does now, and his booming voice positively sets her brain rattling. She understands why he was silent, up until then.

**“How is your head, my lady?”**

He hasn’t quite gotten out of the habit of addressing the Golds formally.

“How did you know I have a headache?” She asks.

**“Obsidians were taught to recognize signs of pain.”** He says. **“It lets us know where our next strike should land.”**

“Ah.” She says, wincing. She and Ragnar had gotten off to a slightly rocky start in their friendship. It was, at the time, unsettling for her to be set opposite (or so she thought) a creature that could go toe to toe with her in combat. A slave who could likely kill her. It wasn’t a thought Golds were comfortable with.

The War of Color had changed those feelings. For better or worse. But she had grown quite fond of the enormous man since the early days. It was impossible not to—he had saved her life and the lives of those she loved countless times. She wondered if he could tell how much her feelings had changed since that moment long ago in Lykos when she had sworn to cut him down. He wasn’t the easiest person to carry on a conversation with.

“Ragnar,” she sits up, wincing, “do you know how we ended up in—”

She hears the hiss and slide of automatic doors opening, and looks up to see some familiar faces through the glass door of the cell as they enter the holding area.

“—so she just lays him _out_ , I mean I’ve never seen anyone lose control of their limbs as fast as that Gray—” Sevro is saying as they enter.

“Not Gray, Sevro.” Darrow says patiently.

“I’m trying to paint a slagging picture here, Reap.” Sevro tells him. “Don’t tell me you feel sympathy for those bastards all of a sudden.”

“Well, I did overthrow the entire centuries old system they were designed to uphold.” Darrow says, a hint of the smug bastard she’s smitten for in his voice. “So, I can afford to be a little sympathetic now and then.”

“Speaking of sympathy…” Sevro’s voice trails off. He’s caught sight of the two birds in their cage. “Have you ever seen a sorrier sight?”

Darrow is trying and monumentally failing to not grin. He taps on the glass. “'Lo, friends. You look like you’re having fun.”

“Ragnar,” Mustang says, purposefully ignoring them both, “I need you to do something for me.”

**“I am at your service.”** The Stained says gravely.

“Good, now just hold out your hand like this—put the middle finger up like so, you see, right at the boys there—”

Sevro puts a hand over his heart. “This is the thanks I get. I come to bail your blonde ass out of prison, I sing your praises to lover boy over here—”

Ragnar grimaces. **“Please do not sing.”**

Now Sevro looks aghast. He points an accusing finger up at the gigantic man. “Your comments are hurtful and unwarranted. Darrow, tell them to be nice to me. They ruined my birthday party.”

Hang on.

Yesterday had been Sevro’s birthday, and that night she, Sevro, Orion, and Ragnar had gone out to one of the rowdier bars in Shanghai II for the occasion. Darrow hadn’t been there—he’d only landed on Earth the morning after. The real birthday celebration was to be that night. Mustang wonders if the two men hadn’t planned it that way on purpose.

“Ruined your birthday party?” Mustang asks, looking between Sevro (who looks far too amused for someone who’s birthday party has been ruined), Ragnar (who looks far too much in agreement with Sevro for comfort), and Darrow (who just looks confused, typical). “And why are you singing my praises?”

“Ho-ho!” Sevro crows. “Always figured you for one who could hold her liquor, Mustang. Looks like I was wrong. How much of last night do you remember?”

“Not enough, apparently.”

Sevro grins wickedly. “Allow me the pleasure of jogging your memory.”

***

The bar was dirty and dimly lit, with a dangerous atmosphere—in other words, perfect. They walked in, and a hush fell over the place. Two (former) Scarred, a (former) Stained, a (former) Imperial Blue captain. Normally, it would have signaled the end of the party for any lower Colors. But tonight…

“’S'my birthday!” An already drunk Sevro slurred at the top of his lungs. “DRINKS ON ME.”

A great cheer went up. The bartender quirked an eyebrow at Sevro. He was an Orange under the old Society, stocky, didn’t take any shit. “Told you two weeks ago that drinks were on the house tonight, but you just love acting the hero, don’t you, Sev?”

Sevro grinned. “I _do_ , Gunn.”

Mustang watched them, unnoticed. What a world this was. Just months after the War, and an Orange spoke as friends with a Gold. What a thing they’d achieved. She hadn’t been planning on drinking much that night but—hell, some things were worth celebrating.

“What’ll you have? Ragnar? Misses?”

Mustang was shaken out of her thoughts. “I’ll… have whatever they’re having.”

Sevro’s grin widened. “You sure you can handle that?”

“We’ll drink you under the table, boy.” Orion said dryly.

Sevro slapped the counter. “Gunn! Make ‘em _strong_.”

Some hours and too many shots later, Orion and Ragnar remained unaffected. Sevro and Mustang were a lost cause.

“Remember, remember, rem'ber, remember,” Sevro said, poking Mustang in the arm. “Remember the time you and I were sneaking into one of the power generation facilities on Callisto—”

“So sneaky,” Mustang giggled.

“And I stepped on a grate in the vents and the shitty thing collapsed—”

Mustang shrieked with laughter.

“There were guards everywhere.” Sevro recalled, beaming fondly at the memory. “We almost died.”

“Yes,” Mustang nodded. “That was great.”

“I love you all.” Sevro said suddenly, patting Ragnar on the arm. “Really love you guys.” He slumped forward onto the table, asleep.

**“So small.”** Ragnar said.

“You’re lucky he’s asleep.” Orion told him, as she tried to pry Mustang’s drink away. Mustang seemed to think it was some sort of game.

**“We should consider—”** Ragnar began, but was cut off by someone sloshing a large mug of beer over his back. Some of the spray hit Mustang, who looked cranky.

“My mistake, _slave_ ,” the passing man sneered. Ragnar frowned and turned to face him, missing Orion’s shake of the head.

**“You are twice mistaken.”** He said. **“I am not a slave.”**

“It is best to ignore fools such as these.” Orion said under her breath, but:

“What did you just call him?” Mustang asked, voice far too loud. Orion sighed.

Mustang stared the man down—a Gray he would have been in his old life, maybe even a Lurcher. He looked like a brawler. At a nearby table, several more like him looked over at Mustang’s question.

“Begging your pardon, my lady,” the man said, with a mock bow. “You must have misheard me.” He turned to leave.

“Apologize to him.” Mustang said.

“Or what? You have no automatic jurisdiction here.” The man seemed to be done with feigning decency. “You and your friends made that illegal under the new order, didn’t you?”

“A loyalist.” Orion said disdainfully. “And a drunk one, at that. No wonder he’s so brave.”

Loyalists came in all Colors, but they were quite common among the old Grays, bred to be loyal to a fault.

“Yes.” The man said. “Going to order your beast to attack me?”

Ragnar and Orion both recognized the look on Mustang’s face. Orion downed the rest of her drink.

“I can’t do that,” Mustang said.

Ragnar angled himself away from the bartop, jostling Sevro in the process. The other man stirred.

“What'sa'matter?” Sevro mumbled.

“But I can do this.” Mustang continued, and Sevro opened his eyes just in time to see Mustang let loose a punch that sent the Gray flying back into his table full of friends behind him. He looked to be out of the fight—so did the table.

His friends, not so much. Seven of them, and they looked unhappy.

“Think they’re all Loyalists?” Mustang asked.

The lot of them charged her at once.

Ragnar caught the first one with an almost gentle fist to the top of the head. The man dropped to the floor like a sack of flour. Mustang laughed as she entered the fray.

The bartender, Gunn, shook Sevro’s shoulder hurriedly.

“What’s happening, what is _happening_ ,” Sevro asked over the noise of the fight.

“Sev, you need to wake up and go!” Gunn said anxiously. “I just got a call from Enforcement, tried to hold them off but they’ll be here soon enough—”

On cue, the doors flew open and the Enforcement squad entered the room to break up the brawl.

“Stand down, stand down!” The head Enforcer barked. To his credit, he looked a bit worried about approaching Ragnar.

But the big man stood down first. The fight had dwindled to nearly nothing—Mustang and Ragnar had made short work of the Loyalists.

**“Do not be alarmed.”** Ragnar told the Enforcer calmly. **“We will come willingly.”**

“We will?” Mustang asked blankly.

**“It is we who threw the first punch.”** Ragnar pointed out.

“Well, he was being rude to you first.” Mustang said. Ragnar nodded.

**“That is so. But we must be the ones to set the example.”**

“Oh, alright.” Mustang agreed reluctantly. Then, “…I feel sick.”

**“Hold fast to me,”** Ragnar told her. They were led away, but uncuffed.

“Where are you two going?” Sevro asked after them. “’nother bar?” He tried to stand to follow them, but couldn’t quite gain proper access to his motor skills and sat back down, defeated.

“Don’t worry about it.” Orion told him, patting him on the head.

***

“I called her this morning to come with us to get you,” Sevro says, “But she told me to piss off and hung up on me. Said it was enough work getting me back to my apartment, which I can neither confirm, not deny.”

“I may remember some of that happening now…” Mustang says slowly. Sevro cackles.

“So you got into a bar fight, did you?” Darrow says, leaning up against the glass and grinning down at Mustang. “Wish I’d been there to witness it.” She fights the urge to smile back.

“If one of you doesn’t let us out of this glass box within the next four seconds, I’ll give you something to witness.”

Sevro plugs a code into a keypad on the wall and the glass slides away for them.

Darrow wraps a long arm around Mustang’s shoulders and kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips. “It is good to see you.”

“Ragnar, where’s my kiss?” Sevro asks. Darrow shoves him.

Speaking of Ragnar…

Mustang turns, suddenly. “I’m sorry.”

The men look at her, confused.

“For what?”

“For starting a fight in the first place.” She looks to Ragnar. “I should have ignored them, not given them the attention they wanted. And I got you arrested.”

Ragnar gives her a rare, slow smile. **“It is the first time I have ever been arrested. And it was to repay my friend.”**

“I don't—” Mustang starts to say.

**“You did not have to say anything to that man. You did not have to defend me.”** Ragnar says. **“And for that, you have my thanks, Virginia.”**

“Oh.” Mustang says, flustered, but pleased. It is the first time he has ever called her by name. “It was nothing, really…”

“Nothing?” Sevro asks. “You punched a person across the room.”

“Shut up, Sevro, you were asleep.”

“That’s true.” He says. “Speaking of which—we should head back to my place. We need to start setting up for tonight.”

Darrow looks between Mustang and Ragnar, and smiles. He claps Sevro on the shoulder and leads him out, detailing his ideas for the evening. Mustang presses her fingers to her temple. Ragnar extends his arm and she loops hers through his.

“No fights, tonight?”

**“I make no promises.”** He says demurely, and she laughs and laughs on their way out.


End file.
